I didn’t grow up going to church. As a young child, I remember our family going with my grandparents on Christmas Eve and Easter a few times. We would get all dressed up in our finest clothes, knowing it was something special. As an outsider looking in, it seemed strange. The church services were somewhat liturgical in nature, filled with pomp and circumstance, with people wearing robes, and rituals that made me feel out of place, like I didn’t belong. I certainly didn’t feel close to God. At the very least, seeds of faith were planted as I heard about God and Jesus Christ.
Fast forward several years, and I was married on August 4th, 1990, at the young age of 19. Two days before our wedding, Saddam Hussein, the leader of Iraq, invaded Kuwait. I was attached to an Army reserve unit at the time. A couple of weeks after our wedding, I had to go on my two-week annual training with my unit. Things continued to escalate in the Middle East, and we were informed that there was a high likelihood that our unit would be one of the first to be activated for deployment overseas. Within two months, I received my orders for the build-up, where I was stationed at Ft Devens in MA, and a few months after that, we left for Saudi Arabia.
Two significant things happened during that time period. The first was that my mother-in-law and father-in-law gave me a Bible and told me they would be praying for me. It was the first Bible I had ever owned. The second was becoming friends with a guy in my platoon who was willing to share his faith with me and discuss spiritual matters.
God was stirring and moving. The Holy Spirit was at work within me. I was considering things I had never really thought of before. Is there a God, and if so, what does that mean for me? What happens when you die? Is there a heaven and a hell? Those seemed like reasonable questions to ponder given my situation. As I read through my Bible and spoke with my friend, I began to consider things more deeply. Who is this Jesus? Who is this King of Glory?
It was a cold January day with biting winds and freezing temperatures as we loaded onto the military transport plane in MA, headed towards the Middle East. We flew into the country the day the war started on January 18th, and I’ll never forget the feeling of landing, having the doors open on the plane, and feeling that rush of warm desert heat sweep over you. Suddenly, things felt very real after months of preparing stateside.
There’s much that I don’t remember on the day-to-day specifics when we first arrived. You’re tired, you’re hungry, you’re a little scared of the unknown. I remember that with the pre-war intelligence, there was a lot of concern regarding the use of chemical and biological weapons with the Scud missiles. During the first few days of the war, there were approximately 15-20 Scud missiles launched. The first series of missiles was launched at Israel in hopes of drawing them into the war to break the coalition forces against Iraq. The other primary targets were Riyadh, the Saudi capital, and Dhahran, where I was stationed.
Whenever a Scud was launched, the TIBS, or Tactical Information Broadcast System, transmitted warnings to the Patriot missile batteries and military installations throughout the theater. At the local level, our bases and military installations had their own warning systems. When a Scud launch was detected and indicated a potential threat to an area, the air raid sirens would sound, warning people to take cover and put on protective gear in case of chemical warheads.
As you can imagine, it was pretty unnerving every time that would happen. I remember one night I had just gone to sleep, and probably within 30 minutes, the air raid siren went off and the patriot missiles launched. Jolted awake, you scramble out of bed and grab your protective gear. You put it on as quickly as possible, grab your weapons, and head to the designated shelter area. And then you sit there and wait, on edge, with the air raid siren screaming, not knowing what was going to happen.
It’s this weird feeling because you are under attack from missiles launched hundreds of miles away, but you don’t have an enemy you can see and engage with. The danger is not immediately visible or apparent. They aren’t there in front of you. You can’t see them, you can’t charge them in battle. Instead, you sit there with your thoughts and wait. A short time later, the all-clear signal was given.
I went back to bed, got settled in, and eventually fell back asleep after a while, as I was exhausted. And then the air raid siren goes off again, and you start the process all over again.
The third time this happened that night was my own personal ‘road to Damascus’ experience with Jesus. I remember sitting on the floor in the hallway in the center of our barracks, leaning against the wall, my M16 and my M60 beside me. We are in full MOPP gear, including our chemical masks, and all that is swirling through my mind is, “What do I believe?” “Do I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?” “Do I believe that God loved me and sent His Son to die on a Cross to pay for the penalty of my sin?” “If I were to die tonight, would I go to heaven or would I go to hell?” And you realize there is no greater choice for you to make in life.
God desires that everyone would be saved, although that does not mean everyone will be saved. Hell is a real thing. My thoughts were not really about the missile launches; that was all secondary. What I was wrestling with was where I stood with God. And although it doesn’t sound very manly, with tears rolling down my cheek, I decided in that moment to trust God. By faith, I would trust in Jesus Christ.
1 Corinthians 1:18 says, “The message of the cross is foolish to those who are headed for destruction! But we who are being saved know it is the very power of God.” To the world, it seems foolish, but for me in that moment, it was the power of God to save.
It is freely given to those who have surrendered their lives to Him in faith; those who come to that crossroad, to that specific moment in time, and say YES, I believe in faith and place my trust in God, and His Son Jesus Christ.
Like Paul, I don’t come in words of human wisdom. It is in weakness and fear and trembling, knowing that the Power of God and His Spirit still moves on the hearts of men and women today.
Whatever you have going on in your life that you feel prevents you from coming to God, I say, lay it at the feet of the cross. You’ll be amazed at what he can do with broken people.
When I think of my sins, my failures, the sense of guilt and shame outside of the redemptive power of Christ, it feels suffocating. It is like a heavy, wet blanket placed over your face, preventing you from getting the life-giving oxygen you need. And then I remember His word says, “BUT GOD”, and that changes everything.
As it is written, “… no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.”
